


Mine

by missxanon



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missxanon/pseuds/missxanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jealous Chris Jericho is determined to make sure Punk remembers his place, even if he hasn't done anything wrong...yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from ff.net

Mine

Chris Jericho stalked the backstage halls after his Extreme Rules match, searching for the punk he'd lost to for a second time. But that was alright, it was what he wanted, it was time for him to hand his title to the new generation; no, being best in the world, was not the issue at hand. What was, was that his Punk had attracted the attention of the Celtic bastard Sheamus, and Punk was beginning to notice, and Chris would be damned it he let his boy forget his place.

He threw the door to Punk's dressing room open, causing it to bang hard against the wall, and bounce back at him. He pushed it again and stormed into the room, glaring at the offending man as he was peeling his jeans off his long, tanned legs. He looked up, only mildly shocked at first, then it faded, and he quirked a curious eyebrow.

"What's got your panties in a bunch?" he asked, as he finally pulled his jeans off and threw them across the room, sitting, as most were used to seeing him, in his underwear. He looked up at Chris, his green eyes still curious, his lip ring glinting in the light, and awaited his lover's response. Jericho, however, wasn't about to offer one, mainly because he didn't have a good reason that would make sense to Punk.

Jericho grabbed Punk roughly, pulling him up and pushing him back against the wall.

"The fuck?" Punk cursed as his head cracked off the wall; "Chris, what are you do-" he was cut off by a rough kiss from his lover. He never could deny Chris, no matter how strange he was acting, it was his one and only weakness.

Chris broke the kiss after a few heated minutes of sucking and biting on Punk's lips, tugging on his lip ring with his teeth. He leaned back, looking at his lover, hunger and possession flashing through his eyes, and that concerned Punk slightly. He was used to Chris' violent moods, it was part of the attraction, but ever had he seen the man this volatile or unstable. And despite his concern, he couldn't help the fact that he was much more powerfully than anything ever had before.

Chris noticed the growing bulge in his boyfriends pants and it helped to calm him slightly, but not enough to completely quell his rage. He spun Punk around so that he was pressed flat against the wall. A moan escaped from deep within his throat as Chris yanked his thin underwear off his well toned ass, and eyed it hungrily. There was nothing Chris loved more than seeing his lover stripped bare and ready; he licked his lips as he stripped himself of his coat and trunks. Punk was his, and there was no one alive that would change that, especially not some over cocky Irishman.

"Brace yourself," he whispered into Punk's ear before driving in with no preparation. Punk groaned, a mixture of pain and pleasure that escaped him though he tried to hold it back. Chris was still for a moment, allowing Punk's body to adjust to the invasion, before pulling back, then plunging in again. Punk scratched at the wall, attempting to find some sort of purchase as his knees threatened to give way beneath him, and the pleasure made him light headed and euphoric. Chris' hand snaked it's way around his waist and grasped his hard member, stroking it in time to his thrusts; he leaned forward, resting his head on Punk's shoulder as he felt himself approaching the edge. A few more jerking, shaky thrusts later, and he was coming inside his lover, full force, biting down hard on the area where his neck met his shoulder. Punk cried out, coming as well, spilling himself over Chris' hand.

"You. Are. Mine," Chris growled into Punk's ear.

"Yes...yours...always," Punk panted, his mind too hazy to think of anything witty to come back with.

"Good," Jericho growled, pulling out and taking a step back, catching Punk as his knees almost buckled. He carried Punk over to the couch he was lucky enough to have in his dressing room, and laid him down on it.

"And don't you ever forget it," he said, stroking Punk's hair gently and smiling softly.


End file.
